


Together in the Storm

by greygerbil



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: A storm traps Genji and Zenyatta in a shrine high up in the mountains, but despite the inconvenience it affords them a chance to talk alone.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta
Comments: 6
Kudos: 140
Collections: Turing Fest 2020





	Together in the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



“I think the storm will last through the night.”

Genji frowned up at the sky, which was a mass of whirling grey. Even through the small crack in the shrine’s doorway, snowflakes darted into the room on a sharp wind like soldiers hoping to break a siege.

“In that case, let us shut the door. It is cold enough in here,” Zenyatta said behind him. “I’m sure we can go back down in the morning.”

Genji nodded his head, leaning his shoulder into the door to push it close with the weight of his body. Storms seldom went on for longer than half a day in this season, so there was no reason to panic yet.

Only the lights of his own and Zenyatta’s body still illuminated the old shrine. It had been here long before the Shambali, but wasn’t quite as ancient as the monastery they had rebuilt. Alongside an offering of flowers, Zenyatta had brought dust rags, a bottle of water, and soap when he’d come up here this evening and Genji saw why. Though it looked like the shrine was cared for, covered in dust but not dilapidated, no one seemed to be using it regularly.

“I’ve never been here before,” Genji said, looking at a smiling stature of Buddha, which was tarnished but otherwise unharmed, sitting on a small, simple altar among a few sparsely decorated bowls for offerings.

“It has been abandoned for some time, fifty years or so, I would guess,” Zenyatta said. “A rock slide covered the road that once led to it and it was probably easier to build a new shrine than try to recover this one. It is not that grand, after all.” There was affection in his voice as he looked up at the wooden rafters. “Still, since we found a way up from the monastery, we have made it our duty to keep it for any who might need it.”

“Like us now,” Genji said with a smile hidden behind his face plate, sitting at the foot of the altar. “Though I suppose if we hadn’t come up here to clean, we wouldn’t have needed the shelter, either.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Zenyatta reminded him as he lowered himself on the ground. “Not that I would not rather have your company than not, but I didn’t mean to trap you here for the night. I told you the weather might change.”

“You did, so I came. It’s better not to climb the mountains alone in a storm,” Genji said.

When Zenyatta made a thoughtful, slightly amused noise, Genji knew to read it like a mischievous smile.

“That sounds like a greater lesson on life. I always believed you would at some point make a good master yourself.”

With a chuckle, Genji took one of the rags that Zenyatta had brought and grabbed a bowl from the altar.

“I’m sorry to say I lack the patience you have with people.”

“That’s nothing to apologise for. It is good to know one’s strengths and weaknesses. I myself have many flaws that hold me back in my service to the Shambali.”

Without stilling his hands, Genji chanced a glance at Zenyatta from the corner of his eyes. His master moved with as much calm poise as ever as he took the Buddha off his altar and set him in his lap. Sometimes, he wished Zenyatta had expressions to betray him where his tone would not. Though he’d sounded humorous, comments of this nature had lately come a little too often to still feel like simple self-depreciating jokes reflecting on his own short-comings. Having known Zenyatta nearly two years now, Genji had noticed other changes, too, even if he could not see his mind working behind his immovable face. He was a little more withdrawn lately and while still courteous and helpful with new guests, he hadn’t taken a new student in months. Among the bustle of the monastery, which was growing ever more busy as the Shambali’s influence widened, he hadn’t found the right moment to question Zenyatta, but now there was nothing that could divert their attention.

“Can I ask you a question, master?”

“Always,” Zenyatta answered, righting the Buddha so he looked at him.

“Is something troubling you? You’ve been quieter and – it’s not my business, but as of late, you and Mondatta have not been together as much as you used to be.”

“My brother is a man with many duties.” Zenyatta hesitated. “I don’t mean this to sound like I am jealous of his time spent with others. It’s just that I think we disagree on how that time is most wisely applied for the goals he has. Yet, he seems to prove he is right by his actions, which is, of course, the best way. He has an ever-growing following and he is a wise teacher to them, even if he is not as close to his students as he used to be.”

“But,” Genji prompted and Zenyatta gave a quiet laugh.

“You noticed already that would come, did you?” he said, gently rubbing the rag over the Buddha’s face. “I don’t think that the pains of the past can be healed by preaching. I think we must meet and get to know people personally – but I am certainly biased because I am not a preacher. As I said, it may be right for Mondatta and it seems that my brothers and sisters agree with him. If one is the only one who thinks differently, it is worth considering that one is wrong!” Pausing, he adjusted the statue again. “Still, if this is what the Shambali are now, I don’t know if I am truly Shambali anymore.” He shook his head. “But I don’t mean to spoil your experience with them. This is just my own quarrel.”

Genji listened quietly to Zenyatta’s words. He knew that in his life as a free omnic, Zenyatta had never been anything but Shambali. Though he hadn’t said so, he could imagine that Zenyatta was worried about suddenly losing that anchor. _Why does it not bother me to hear this_ , he contemplated, running the cloth over the bowl. Perhaps because this did not change his own fixed point, not truly. Zenyatta’s doubts about the Shambali as he outlined them here followed from everything Genji already knew, admired, loved about Zenyatta.

“I owe the Shambali a great deal, but you are my master,” he said slowly. “It would be stranger for me to see you take to speaking from the pulpit than it is to think of your doubts about the Shambali. You needn’t worry about me.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” Zenyatta said honestly.

Genji set the rag down on his knee. “So this is, what – a schism?”

Zenyatta huffed with amusement. “No, I certainly wouldn’t give that much weight to one unruly monk. But it might be my parting point, yes. Which means that... I probably won’t be here for much longer. Not for a time, at least.”

His voice grew softer as he reverently placed the statue of Buddha back on its altar and looked at Genji. From his slow, almost hesitant movements, Genji realised Zenyatta was waiting for his reaction.

“You want to leave?” Genji said.

“Yes. No. I don’t. I like my life here, but I think I _need_ to leave. I realised how important I think it is to meet people, but many of those who need help will probably never find their way here, and there must be people out there I should meet so I can learn from them that I won’t find here, either. Besides, I really know so little about this world from my own experiences – and I can only make you tell me so many stories until you will get bored.”

Genji smiled to himself. Zenyatta had always asked about his life outside, before the monastery. It had, in part, certainly been a way to coax details out of Genji he might not have wanted or even thought to share, but Genji had realised soon enough that some of Zenyatta’s curiosity was not so pointed. It had been one of the first things that had endeared him to Zenyatta. He’d found it easier to relate to a person with his own foibles and interests than someone who did not open himself up at all.

“I’m happy to speak of it,” Genji said, “but I think you’re right.”

Zenyatta rested his hands on his lap. “You’re the first person to tell me that,” he said and there was relief and surprise in his voice in equal measures. “The few brothers and sisters I spoke to about such ideas were against it.”

“It’s dangerous, that much worries me. There are a lot of people who will not greet an omnic with kindness. I don’t think you were meant to spend your years locked into a monastery, though. I mean, you’re barely eighteen. I know omnics are born adult, but I was certainly not thinking about temples at that age...”

Zenyatta laughed. It was a free sound that Genji adored, especially since he had not heard it often lately.

“I understand,” Genji said, a little more seriously. “I never planned to stay here forever, either.”

“What do you wish to do?”

Genji shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know. I would like to meet Hanzo again at some point, but first I need to find my feet. That seems amazing to me, though. You have no choices when you are born into a Yakuza family. Your path is laid out, even if you dance around it as wildly as I did. When I was with Overwatch, I was a soldier with a mission, and when I came here, I needed to follow your guidance because it was the only way to save myself.” He stopped. “Not that I’m not grateful. It’s thanks to you that now I am at a place knowing that I could be anything. I have a choice. That’s new for me.”

“That is in the greatest part your own doing, Genji,” Zenyatta said confidently. “I’m certain your path will lead to good things.”

Some months ago, Genji might not have nodded his head, but now he dared to do so. He was strong enough to make something out of this opportunity, even if fear and excitement walked hand in hand.

“It will be strange to do it alone,” he admitted.

“Come now, if you truly think you need me for that, I have failed as a teacher!” Zenyatta joked softly.

“No, but...”

Genji fell quiet. He was happy for Zenyatta’s possible future, having always thought in private that Zenyatta was just a bit too lively to stay in a monastery forever, but that only managed to push the gnawing sadness the news also caused away for so long. Zenyatta was his master, yes, and perhaps he did not need him in that role anymore. That was not all he meant to Genji, though.

“I will miss you, too, Genji.”

When Genji raised his head in surprise, Zenyatta chuckled quietly. 

“Sometimes, I can predict your thoughts, too.”

“Most of the time, you mean,” Genji said, smiling, heart beating faster.

Silence fell again and with it the cold. Genji hadn’t noticed it creeping into the shrine while they were engaged speaking about important things. One drawback of his metal body was that it had a self-regulating heat system that was not much more advanced than that of regular human, but unlike them, he could not even rub his hands together or hug himself to create heat.

It seemed Zenyatta became equally aware of the whistling wind and temperature, as he turned to look at the door, which rattled with the gusts. His model was not advanced enough to register it as more than a simple fact, Genji knew, having lived alongside him in the snow; as long as it was not threatening to freeze his circuits, his systems had no reason to sound the alarm. However, as he looked at Zenyatta, his master met his gaze, having obviously considered how the cold would affect Genji.

“We did bring a heater to this temple, but we haven’t gotten around to finding a way to connect this place to the electric grid yet,” Zenyatta said.

“Well, we will be shielded, at least,” Genji answered. No point in complaining. He had weathered much worse.

“If you would help me, I could connect myself to the heater.”

“Are you certain?” Genji asked.

“I am fully charged and it shouldn’t take too much energy. It’s not a big machine.”

Omnics had high-performance batteries that should not be fully discharged by anything less than an industrial-sized heater, but Genji still hesitated to have Zenyatta do this for his comfort. However, Zenyatta had already moved to push an old chair out of the way to reveal a simple black box on wheels and leaned in to inspect its connectors.

“If you detach one of my spinal cords from the hip, we could plug it in here,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t reach them very well.”

“If you call them spinal cords, it really makes me not want to do it,” Genji said, getting up.

“Auxiliary multiple use cables sorted along the length of my back,” Zenyatta corrected, amused.

Gently, Genji picked out the sturdiest-looking one of them, a red one that dipped just under the coiled belt around Zenyatta’s hip, and pulled it out of the various fastenings that held it along his back. Though Zenyatta sat still, Genji had to work to ignore the flutter in his stomach as he reached between metal parts and pulled the cable out of its port.

“I hope this doesn’t drain you.”

“If it does, you will have to carry me down the mountain in the morning,” Zenyatta said, reaching around himself to take the loose cable from Genji and plug it into the machine. “My model’s weight is calibrated to be easy to move even when switched off, so there is no need to worry.”

Genji heard the smile in Zenyatta’s voice. The heater came to live with a quiet buzz.

“Are you sure? What about your mala?” Genji said, joining in on the playful tone in hopes of overcoming his moment of temptation, picking up one of the ornamented brass balls that laid at the foot of the altar where Zenyatta had left them. “I think whoever built you did not account for these in their calculations. I could break my back.”

“I suspect they are not so heavy.”

“They certainly feel that way when you throw them point blank at my face.”

Genji settled in close to Zenyatta, rolling the orb between his hands. With Zenyatta’s power supply, the heater ran hot quickly, but it was still small and so Genji had to sit limb to limb with his master next to it – not that it bothered him.

“If I can still hit you, then I apparently haven’t thrown them often enough. You are the fighter between us. Or have I really overtaken you?”

There was a joking challenge in Zenyatta’s voice that Genji rose to as easily as ever.

“I think we have to see tomorrow, won’t we? Even if I have to plug you in to prepare you for the training grounds myself. You will have no excuse.”

“I don’t need one, my student,” Zenyatta said laughing.

Genji smiled, but even as he did realised that when he did not keep the conversation going, the quiet and the sorrows it brought came back like a weight. Words flowed easily between them, topics of grave important just as well as irreverent teasing, like a stream first jumping stones and then settling calmly into its bed. It was hard to accept that soon enough, he wouldn’t have any of that.

“It’s going to be odd, not being with you anymore,” he blurted out.

He’d expected Zenyatta to reassure him again that he could do without him as his master, but Zenyatta seemed to have interpreted the tone in Genji’s voice better than that. He rested his hands in his lap as he looked at him.

“I know what you mean.”

“Is there – a reason we need to part?” Genji said, carefully, slowly.

He shouldn’t, he knew. He was setting himself up for some disappointment, trailing after Zenyatta without a chance to get what he truly wanted from him. Then again, he had been student and friend to Zenyatta for two years and probably been in love with him for most of them. It had not ever stopped him from enjoying his company.

“What do you mean?”

“We could travel together, couldn’t we? It would be safer for you, too. If I’m not totally mistaken, I’m not simply a student to you anymore, so it’s not like you’d need to spend your time watching over me.”

Zenyatta fell quiet. In the silence, the heater and the storm rumbled in disharmonious unison. What blood could still move there rushed to Genji’s head. Perhaps wishing had mixed with his expectations here.

“I’m sorry. That was presumptuous,” Genji said, swallowing.

“No, not at all. It was right. I shouldn’t be surprised whenever you see so easily through me. I guess most humans tend to find me and my brothers and sisters more mysterious than you do – or perhaps you just know me too well,” he added, in a more light-hearted tone that devolved into hesitation again. “I’m sorry I never mentioned it. I didn’t mean to deceive you, but it seemed unhelpful. You are indeed much more than a student-”

His inflection rose, but the sentence broke away abruptly. Zenyatta lowered his head and then quickly straightened his back, nervously shifting. The tension Genji felt explode in the room as suddenly as lightning was an almost forgotten feeling and it had never meant so much back when he was young and stupid; but at least that Genji would have known to press the advantage he saw. He’d not meant to imply what Zenyatta had taken from his words, but considering the answer, he would never let him know. He could not kiss Zenyatta to show him what he thought of his words, though, even if he did manage to somehow fumble his face plate off before the chance had faded, since Zenyatta had no mouth.

In a desperate bid not to let the moment pass, Genji turned and wrapped Zenyatta in his arms, still awkwardly holding the orb in one hand. Zenyatta’s body had been warmed by proximity to the heater. He was motionless for only a moment before his arms closed around Genji, simple steel meeting highly advanced plating, and that mechanical click that would once have left Genji seething at himself was the sweetest sound.

They sat for a long moment that was too short for Genji still, though eventually it was he who backed off, irrationally searching Zenyatta’s face and then finding something better than an expression when Zenyatta tilted it towards him and gently knocked their foreheads together.

“I would be overjoyed if you came with me,” his hands ran down Genji’s arms, brushing against sensors that left Genji’s synthetic muscle pleasantly taut, “wherever you would like to go.”

In the small, cramped space of the shrine that they were captured in by a storm, it seemed to Genji his whole future unfurled in front of him and it seemed he didn’t have to give up anything to take hold of it. His hands tightened reflexively around Zenyatta as an old fear told him that it could not be that easy. Zenyatta leaned his head inquisitively to the side.

“There is a lot I have to show you,” Genji said, instead of indulging that senseless paranoia. “It will be a different world with you there.”

He finally reached up to remove his faceplate, then, and kissed the glowing array on Zenyatta’s forehead, feeling the heated steel and acrylic glass warm his lips.


End file.
